Harry Potter and the Gap of Worlds
by frappn
Summary: Flung from a world torn by never ending wars, Harry Potter seeks to find a way back. Through the Gap of Worlds, his past seeks to find him. Now, he must defeat the forces assembled, else risk the fate of not only his world, but of all. AU within AU.
1. Prologue

Harry woke up feeling. . . odd.

Living a life filled with danger had forced him to develop a finely honed sense of situational awareness, which contributed to his many close escapes from death. More than a few times had his battle hardened instinct warned him of unseen spells, while his constant self-awareness allowed him to dodge, counter, and reposition, almost as second nature. He was, to a point, almost obsessive in observing and cataloging everything around him, always organizing the world in terms of utility and possibility.

A tiny pebble, almost innocuous, could be instrumental in life or death. Harry would know, he once killed a particularly nasty wanna-be dark lord by tricking him into tripping over a rain-slicked pebble.

So it was, that when Harry woke up, the fact that he had shrunk to the size of a little kid was immediately of notice to him. Moreover, his magic was fluctuating wildly, raging one minute then silent the next.

Something had happened, that much was obvious. A normal person might have been confused. They might have panicked.

But Harry wasn't a normal person. He didn't live to be his age, given his profession, by being normal.

Instead, Harry calmly examined his situation.

One, the physical and magical changes to his body had already been noted.

Two, he was on a bed inside an unknown room.

Three, he didn't remember how he got here.

And lastly, four:

A person who looked suspiciously like James Potter had just blasted open the door and was now pointing his wand at him, fear, resignation, and determination in his eyes.

Harry didn't know exactly what was going on, but being on the business end of a wand was something he was very familiar with. So familiar, in fact, that he was already acting before that fact had consciously registered in his head.

The pillow flew gracefully towards the James Potter look-a-like's head before being disintegrated in a flash of red light, but that was just a distraction. Taking advantage of the momentary blind spot created by the pillow, the much heavier alarm clock appeared immediately after.

The look-a-like's eyes widened in surprise and, too shocked to even think of blasting it away with another spell, instinctively ducked-

Only to be met by Harry's fist to his throat.

If Harry had been in his old body, such a blow might have ended the fight then and there. However, his smaller size meant that the look-a-like was only temporarily stunned, on his knees and gasping for air, but Harry wasn't finished.

Grasping the look-a-like's wand arm, Harry twisted, causing the look-a-like's hand to open reflexively and dropping his wand.

Quick, clean, and efficient, that was Harry's style. There was no need for showy or flashy spells, just basic movements, the minimum effort for maximum result. At least, that was his preferred style, but rarely does thing pan out for him. Often, the result of his many confrontations were broken rubble and scorched earth.

In this case, however, it worked.

Having reversed the situation with the look-a-like, Harry took a moment to let the look-a-like recover. He was in unknown territory, with a hostile enemy, and very little information. Normally, he would have already killed the man and be done with it, leaving an enemy alive was just asking for trouble, but the look-a-like might provide him with valuable information.

Judging that the look-a-like had sufficiently recovered, from the regularity in his breathing, Harry started to interrogate the man-

"Get away from James!"

And was promptly interrupted by a cry and a stunner heading his way.

Instinct told him to find cover, he immediately dove behind the bed, just in time to be missed by several more stunners impacting the space where he was.

Peeking out from behind the bed, Harry confirmed his suspicion, for 'Sirius Black' and 'Remus Lupin' were warily guarding the recovering 'James Potter'.

Harry thought that whoever was after him this time had a sick sense of humor.

"James, Sirius, what's going on?" a female voice called out.

Harry took another glance. 'Lily Potter' had joined the scene.

Yeah, a really sick sense of humor.

Harry reassessed his situation. It was three on one, and while he had a wand, his magic was unreliable. Worse, he had lost the element of surprise. Things were not looking good for him. So, he decided on a gamble.

"Wait a minute," he called out, pausing to see if they were listening, "I give up."

Flicking the, useless, wand across the floor, Harry slowly stood up, his hands up in the air.

"See, I'm helpless and unarmed."

For his trouble, the last thing Harry saw were the faces of four dead persons and a flash of red.

". . .do you mean there's nothing?"

"I have. . .and the young Mr. Potter does not display any signs of dark. . ."

Harry focused on the conversation as he groggily came to, and found that he was tied to a chair. That was bad, to be sure, but Harry could feel that his magic had stabilized itself, which meant that he was in no danger. That he wasn't dead already also meant that they wanted him alive, which meant that his gamble had paid off.

Pretending to be asleep, he continued to listen, hoping to gain some more information.

"The wards were tripped Dumbledore, what else could it have been?"

Harry frowned.

"My dear boy, you know as well as I do that Harry shares an unfortunate yet unique connection to Voldemort. I believe that the wards were merely reacting to the mixing of the boy's accidental magic and Voldemort's own magical signature."

"You should have seen the way he came at me Dumbledore. He must have done something."

"And yet, didn't you say yourself that you had confiscated his wand?"

"I hate to admit it, but he is very resourceful. He could have hidden another wand."

"While that may be the case, it wouldn't do for us to wildly speculate when we could ask the person himself, now shouldn't we, Harry?"

Keeping his face blanked, Harry opened his eyes.

White beard. Long robes. A silly hat. In front of him was the form of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Wizard, Supreme Mugwump, and countless other accolades and titles.

Among them the conditional status of, dead for the past eleven years.

Yet here he was, in front of Harry, the kindly old face with the same damnable twinkle in his eye.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt a furious rage welling within him.

Without a word, without a gesture, without a _wand_, Harry banished Dumbledore, flinging him against the wall, and surprisingly, through it. Putting that aside of his mind, Harry noticed 'Remus' and 'Sirius' reaching for their wands. They didn't get a chance to draw them before the wooden floor beneath their feet turned into disembodied hands and they were slammed into the ceiling.

The ropes tying his hands to the chair were cut with a silent spell, and Harry wasted no time flipping the chair in front of himself to protect him from a spell flung by 'James'. The chair, instead of splintering, was reflected back towards Harry.

'James' seemed to have remembered what had happened before, and was determined to not let it happen again. However, Harry was not where he had been. As soon as he had flipped the chair over, Harry had dashed behind the kitchen counter.

A Reductor crashed into the counter, blasting wooden pieces everywhere, signifying that 'James' was upping his ante.

Harry had no desire to let 'James' find his rhythm.

"Animatum," Harry whispered, sending the spell flying at 'James'.

'James' easily dodged the spell and fired off another Reductor, which whizzed over Harry's head as he ducked, and blasted the sink apart.

Water sprayed over Harry, slicking his hair to his forehead and running over his eyes, but Harry didn't even seem to notice. He was looking into the distance, focused in complete concentration.

'James' sent another Reductor at the counter, a deafening noise accompanying the complete destruction of Harry's cover.

Harry used the sound to mask his attack and struck.

The automaton, created from the pieces of wood, plaster, and various other debris that littered the room, tackled 'James' from behind, driving him into the floor and pinning him there.

It raised its arm, then brought it smashing down on 'James' own.

'James' let out a muffled scream as his arm was crushed.

Harry fired a full body-bind at 'James' then summoned him, cutting off 'James' cry as he was hit by the curse. As 'James' came to a stop before him, Harry looked into his eyes.

He only had a few seconds, but for Harry, that was enough.

"Legillimens."

A few seconds passed in total silence before it was broken.

"What. The. Fuck."

And then the wall exploded. Dumbledore had returned, his aura flaring around him, the light almost blinding. The air was saturated with Dumbledore's magic, so thick that it had a force of its own, pressing against Harry's skin and making it hard for him to breath.

There was no faking this, this was Dumbledore's power, this was the wizard who had defeated Grindelwald and who even Voldemort had feared.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was out of his depths.


	2. Chapter 1

The second time Harry was captured, they were much more thorough in restraining him. He was bound, arms and feet charmed to be unmovable, and wands were trained on him at all time. Harry couldn't blame them.

Dumbledore's nose was still slightly red, the only hint of it being broken before, while Remus and Sirius were favoring the left side of their body. James was, apparently, rushed to St. Mungo's.

Harry didn't see the point, he'd had healed most of the damage to James' arm, but again, he couldn't blame them.

Harry mentally sighed.

The images he saw when he looked into James' mind were. . .interesting, as was his Tempus confirmation.

August 1, _1993_

His third year at Hogwarts.

Memories could be faked, fooled, or planted, but what Harry's own magic. . .

There was no use in denying the undeniable, Harry didn't bother asking how or why. He had somehow traveled back in time and, from the fact that James and Lily Potter were still alive, to another world. Or maybe just to another world, the metaphysics of dimensional crossing wasn't exactly a subject that Harry was well versed in.

So, his parents were alive, Sirius never went to Azkaban, the Cannons was the best Quidditch team, Bertie Botts came out with a new flavor of jelly beans last month, and Voldemort still lived.

Weakened and pushed into hiding by a vigilant wizard world (the biggest change in Harry's opinion), but very much alive.

That would be a problem for another day, for now though, Harry had to run damage control.

"For the last time, I thought you guys were polyjuiced Death Eaters." Harry explained, "I stopped after I found out otherwise didn't I? I even healed (a pause) Father's arm."

"After you broke it in the first place!" Sirius growled. If Remus wasn't restraining him, he would have been flying towards Harry.

"I said I was sorry didn't I?"

"Sorry's not good enough you littl-"

"Please, Sirius, calm down, " Dumbledore interjected, "while the past incidence is most. . .unfortunate, it is understandable why young Harry had reacted. . .badly."

Turning to Harry, with his wand firmly gripped, Harry noticed, Dumbledore continued, "Still, the advance magic you showed is a cause for concern, specifically for the question of if you are who you claim to be. If you are truly Harry Potter, then all is fine. However. . ."

"You mean he could be a Death Eater in disguise?" Sirius asked, seemingly shocked at the suggestion.

Apparently, relationships with the Harry of this world were not the best, Harry gathered.

"I'm telling the truth Professor! I'm really Harry!" Harry tried to sound desperate.

Dumbledore let out a sigh, "I trust you understand that mere words alone cannot be proof of your innocence, as much as I would like to believe them."

"Then what Professor?"

With a look at Harry, Dumbledore motioned for Sirius and Remus, who stepped forward and kept their wands on Harry. Then, Dumbledore left the room.

A tense few minutes passed by as the two older men glared at him. Harry idly wondered if he could take them, before dismissing the thought.

Even if he could, Harry doubted that further violence would engender him to them.

Dumbledore returned shortly, a small vial in his hand, faint twinkles coming in and out of existence from within.

"This, " Dumbledore began, "is a little known derivative of the strongest truth potion in the wizarding world."

He held the potion before Harry's eyes , before continuing "It is called Paveritaserum, and true to its name, it is much like Veritaserum. Its effects, however, are much more limited. It is only effective for up to three questions and it cannot force you to reveal all your secrets. In other words, you may refuse to answer. However, the main benefit of this potion is that what you do answer, cannot be lies."

Dumbledore looked at Harry from beneath rimmed glasses, "I would like to trust you, but you must also trust me. Will you allow me to use this potion on you, Harry?"

Harry calculated the risk.

"Of course Professor."

Dumbledore seemed to visibly relaxed. Opening the vial, he carefully placed three drops on Harry's tongue.

The liquid burned as it was absorbed, but other than that, Harry didn't feel any different. Dumbledore stepped back slightly and gave his first question.

"Are you able to resist Paveritaserum?"

Dumbledore's first question was the standard one. While it was true that Paveritaserum ensured that no lies can be told, it held only if, in fact, the potion was in effect. Much like Veritaserum, there were many ways to resist Paveritaserum. There was, however, one curious fact about Paveritaserum that, given its many weaknesses, kept the potion in popular use. While it was true that subsequent answers may be in err, the first cannot; the potion was absolute.

True to Dumbledore's words, there was no compulsion. In fact, there was no anything. This was how the potion worked. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have thought that the potion had failed. This subtlety was another strength of the potion, if perhaps hidden, Harry knew.

"No." Harry answered.

Nodding slightly, Dumbledore gave the second question.

"Are you Harry James Potter?"

"Yes."

Here, Dumbledore seemed to gather himself, gripping his wand again, before giving the third question.

"Are you Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

Harry almost sputtered.

"No!"

At this answer, Dumbledore smiled.

"Excellent! I'm sorry for doubting you Harry, but after what happened, I hope that you understand."

"You can't be serious Dumbledore!" Sirius said.

Harry couldn't resist cracking the joke, "Yeah, I thought you were Sirius."

The three of them stared at Harry.

"So er, can I move my body now?"

Charms removed, Harry could finally stretch his arms and legs. Though they had unbound him, Sirius and Remus still had their wands out.

"Sorry about your nose Professor." Harry decided to begin again with another apology. It couldn't hurt.

"Oh this?" Dumbledore answered, wrinkling his nose. "It is not a problem, in fact, I must thank you for unstuffing my nose. Ah, to be able to breathe freely again."

Harry twitched. He had forgotten how batty Dumbledore had been.

"I must ask, Harry, how did you learn to fight so fiercely?"

Harry again calculated the risk.

"Instinct sir."

Harry saw Sirius and Remus frowning at his answer.

"I see. And how was it possible for you to use such advance magic without a wand?"

"Practice sir."

Sirius growled. "Cheeky littl. . ." he muttered, trailing off as he caught the sharp look Dumbledore sent his way.

"Forgive me Harry, I did not mean to pry." Dumbledore apologized, "I was merely curious about your sudden. . .increase in ability."

Harry thought back on what he had learned.

"With all due respect Professor, but we aren't close." Harry said, "And neither am I with my family. I never saw the need to tell them, nor you."

"I see, " Dumbledore said with a sigh, "That is true. You have kept mostly to yourself, it should not be a surprise that you have your secrets."

"Professor, may I ask a question?"

Dumbledore blinked, "Why yes, you may. In fact, I shall give you another."

"Why did (a pause) Father burst into my room?"

Dumbledore shared a look with Sirius and Remus.

"The Potter domicile have certain wards, sensitive to the presence of dark magic, which were activated earlier today. James may have. . .overreacted, thinking his family in danger, you see."

Harry nodded.

"So I was being monitored?"

"In short, yes."

A few more pieces fell into place.

Harry Potter was most likely a dark wizard in training. That he, at the age of 13, had warranted such supervision pointed at his audacity. The only thing that kept him from being sent to Azkaban was, most likely, time. Harry was still, after all, only a child. He probably hadn't done anything major, but given the facts, it was an eventuality. Why James and Lily allowed this ticking time bomb in their home probably had to do with lingering familial affections, though that too, Harry noticed, was waning.

An awkward silent ticked on. Harry didn't want to speak more than he had to. He didn't quite know how the Harry of this world acted, and further actions on his part might invite more suspicion. Then again, from James' memory, he doubted that things would have been much better even if he had acted like the Harry of this world.

Now that the adrenaline rush had stopped, Harry was keenly aware of his turbulent emotional state, which was unexpected but logical. The mind was affected by the body, and his body was that of a child, still undergoing puberty. The brain was not quite fully developed, hormones were raging about, and it was taking Harry all of his discipline to remain calm and not break down in hysterics.

The cacophony of emotions swirling in Harry's head was only made worse by the implications of this world. His friends were still alive.

Sirius was alive.

Remus was alive.

Dumbledore was alive.

_His parents_ were alive.

Bloody hell, he broke his father's arm.

Harry didn't quite know what to do. Hell, he didn't even know what he should do.

Should he keep on pretending to be the Harry Potter of this world? To what extent? Should he mimic everything that this Harry had been?

Harry mentally scoffed. That idea, at least, he knew he wouldn't do.

So then, should he tell them the truth? That he really wasn't the Harry that they knew, but another Harry from an alternate universe, who somehow came to inhabit the body of the Harry that they knew?

The magical world was a mysterious place, full of miracles and wonders, but even in such a context, he doubted that they would believe him. At best, they might think he was just crazy.

No, it was probably best that he kept the charade.

A small part of Harry whispered that he was only rationalizing. The Mirror of Erised had once revealed his deepest desire.

Here was his chance, so of course he would think up of reasons to seize the opportunity.

That may be, but it was also the most practical choice. Even if he had searched for reasons, they were good reasons.

And anyways, maybe Fate had given his this second chance because he deserved it. Because they deserved it, if his conclusions about the character of this Harry was accurate.

He could have his family, they could have their son, and all would be well.

Yeah, and things always go right for Harry Potter, the small part of Harry sarcastically whispered.

". . .So, now what?" Harry asked.

* * *

The next several days passed by in relative monotony. Harry was confined to a building, kept for further observations, but otherwise free to move. The place was filled with the coming and going of witches and wizards, who all pointedly ignored Harry. There were frequent meetings, to which Harry was uninvited, but that he could observe. Harry had gone to a few, but was quickly bored as they were merely bureaucratic reports. This place, Harry discovered, was some kind of headquarter, and the public meetings didn't provide any useful information.

Harry fingered the ring on his hand.

It was a device that discharged any build-up of magic in the person wearing it. Usually used for the worst cases of accidental magic, it served just as well in stopping Harry from using his wandless talent. Of course, Harry could simply slip it off, but the alert charm would notify Dumbledore immediately. If Harry was younger, he might have thought that Dumbledore didn't trust him, he might have raged about the unfairness of it all. Now though, he'd realize that the ring was more for him.

Because of his ability, it meant that he was, essentially, never unarmed. However, as long as he had on the ring, the people around him could more easily relax, sure in the fact that he could not suddenly harm them. It was basically a symbol of safety and trust, allowing him to interact with others without the constant threat of an attack looming overhead.

Harry spent the time reading and thinking.

Slowly, pieces of memory were coming back to him. He wasn't sure on the mechanics, but from the little research that he did on soul magic a few years back, it was hypothesized that the soul may, in some ways, be a product of the body, just like the connection between the mind and the brain.

It was very dizzying. The difference between viewing a memory and having a memory was quite distinct. Harry could feel what he, or rather, this body, was feeling, what it was thinking, its motivations and its desires. A few times, Harry caught himself slipping between what were his memories, and what were this body's.

Scattered memories of another lifetime slowly filtered into his head, and Harry began to understand a little more about this world, and the Harry that had once lived here. It forced him to reevaluate his initial conclusions.

In particular, Harry Potter was not an only child.

Voldemort did not attack on that fateful Halloween night, but rather a year later. The one who was marked was not Harry, but his sister, one Iris Lily Potter.

From what he remembered, James and Lily Potter raised he and his sister with fair enough care and affection, but the strain of being only the sibling of the Girl-Who-Lived had apparently proven to be a wedge between Harry and his family.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion, and jealousy fueled Harry's ambition. It was no wonder that he had been sorted in Slytherin, no doubt further driving the wedge. Wanting to succeed, no matter the cost, taking any path towards power, the young Harry had been desperate to prove himself in any way he could. He had wanted to step out from under the shadow of his more famous sister, to show the world the worth of Harry Potter, to show that he too was somebody.

Blind ambition was a fool's folly. The young Harry had been a fool. He had lost himself for his folly.

_Open_, _Harry hissed._

_Kill, Harry ordered._

Harry closed the book and his eyes. The memory was a recent one. The child in him was still shivering.

On the fifth day, Dumbledore returned, James Potter right behind him.

"How have you been Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Bored, but otherwise fine." Harry answered, then addressing his father, he continued, "Sorry about the arm."

James Potter stiffly nodded.

Years of bad relations certainly wasn't going to be repaired overnight, unlike his father's arm.

"So am I free to go now?"

Dumbledore nodded and gestured to James.

James scowled, before turning to Harry.

"The Headmaster feels that you are ready to return home."

The Headmaster? Not you?

"I see." Harry said, then added a joke, "Should I pack?"

Harry tripped out of the fireplace. Even after all these years, he still wasn't very used to traveling by floo.

Coughing, Harry dusted himself up. His father impassively stood by, not offering him a hand. Harry stood, taking in the sight.

The Potter's Residence was quite unremarkable, spacious but plainly decorated, it could be described as homely, though with an unmistakeable warm quality.

It matched Harry's memories perfectly. Harry almost smiled, he almost felt at home.

There was, however, an underlying tension. Lily Potter stood across the room, staring an him with a complicated expression. James crossed the divide, giving his wife a hug and whispering something in her ear.

He stared at his mother. People had always told him that he had his mother's eyes, but he couldn't see it. She looked sad, resigned, as if she had experienced more years than she had lived. There were lines of wrinkles starting to appear on her face, but otherwise she was still quite young.

Harry wondered how he felt about her. With James, the impressions caused by their first meeting had erased most of the traces of emotions his returning memories had evoked in him, instead replacing them with a certain wariness befitting that of a potentially dangerous opponent.

With his mother, however. . .

His memories told him that here was a woman who loved him unconditionally, who was distraught over the distance created among them, and who was desperate to patch the gap.

His feeling, he supposed, was more a young boy's yearning for a mother's love. He had gotten over it, mostly, as he lived, but the memories of this Harry seemed to have renewed its strength.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour." Lily Potter finally settled on this announcement.

Harry nodded, before walking the familiar steps to Harry's room. He couldn't trust himself to control his emotions, not just yet.

Harry was so focused as he turned the corner that he almost didn't see the person on the other side. Experience allowed him to deftly sidestep what would have otherwise been a collision, but the other person wasn't quite so lucky, taken offguard by his sudden appearance. Losing her balance, she faltered, fell-

At least, would have if he hadn't caught her.

Long black hair. Dark brown eyes. A mousy face. Presently staring at him with an expression bordering on outright terror.

This must be Iris Lily Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, and Harry's sister.

"H-hello." She squeaked out, hurrying away before he could respond.

He felt a stab of envy flow through him, followed by guilt. He ignored them both and continued to his room.

As he closed the door, he finally let out a sigh of relief. There were just too many developments for him to handle. He thought he was ready, but he couldn't think straight. Settling down on the floor, he began to meditate, calming this thoughts. In. Out. In. Out. The only audible sound in the room for the next interval was the regular rhythm of Harry's breathing.

He reigned in his emotions, working hard to restore his thoughts.

So far, so good. Using his slowly returning memories, he had managed to act in a way that was semi-normal. Not quite how he'd been, but still close enough so that there shouldn't be any cause for concerns. It helped that this Harry tended to be quiet, if venomous at times.

If this had been any other year, then this particular act wouldn't have held up, but, after the events of last year. . .

There were enough materials for him to work with. It might not be this summer, or the next, but Harry was confident that he could act the changes necessary.

Harry opened his eyes to find that more than an hour had passed. He had almost missed his first opportunity.

Harry quickly walked downstairs and entered the dining room. The conversation died the moment he entered the room.

Harry blinked. There was an additional person at the table. A little girl, couldn't be more than six or seven, was sitting between Lily and James.

Harry searched his memories and came up with a blank. That such an important fact still hadn't returned was worrying. Acknowledging this new development, Harry took the empty seat at the table, where his prepared portion was rapidly cooling.

Lily gave a look to James, squeezing his hand.

Slowly, the prior atmosphere at the table returned. Harry ate quietly, instead letting the conversation flow around him. Lily asked James about his job. He related a work story. James asked Iris about her homework. She dodged the question. Lily scolded the youngest, Daisy, for playing with her food. If one didn't look closely, it could pass for a normal family meal.

* * *

The weeks passed by quickly. Harry stayed in his room most of the time, venturing out mostly only at meal times, but certainly more than he had used to. He also came out whenever Remus and Sirius were over, but was more of an observer than anything.

His sisters, Harry found, were like kids their age. Iris was maybe more subdued, while Daisy was a precocious child, but the one common element between them was their fear of him. Whenever he was in the room, Iris would studiously avoid him like the plague, while Daisy, always running around, would often not notice him until she ran right into him, at which point she would run and hide behind either James or Lily.

James was often away for Auror work, while Lily was sometimes called away for unspecified business. Whenever they were both away, they would have either Sirius or Remus over to babysit, more often than not Remus.

All in all, things were quite boring, and enjoyable. It was like a long awaited vacation for him.

Harry was returning to his room when he noticed Iris, with a quill in her mouth and a scroll laid out before her, surrounded by a scattering of books.

"Need any help?" Harry asked.

She jumped, not having heard him enter. Not looking at his face, she replied, "N-no, I'm fine."

Harry frowned. Looking back over his memories, it didn't seem that Iris Potter was this skittish. But, memories were biased, colored by perceptions and emotions. From what he could tell, there were no reasons why Harry should have been jealous of Iris Potter, whether she was the Girl-Who-Lived or not. But, he had lived that life, so of course he would know that it was nothing special.

"The general weakness is their eyes." Harry said, ignoring her reply. "The inside of the mouth is also a viable target, though I don't suggest it since the flames would burn you to crisp if you don't have proper shielding. Some species are especially vulnerable in the wings, and there also specific species weaknesses. The Canadian Longtail, for example, is very mellow once its tail is cut off."

She stared at him.

"It's in the books, if you're wondering, but I figured I'd save you some time searching for it." Harry said.

Uncertainty was still filling her face. Harry decided that he had probably done enough for the day.

"Well, if you change your mind. . ." Harry said, turning around and walking away.

"W-wait!" a small voice cried out.

Harry stopped, looking at her.

She seemed conflicted.

"Thank you. . ." She finally said.

Nodding, Harry left, satisfied for the day.

As soon as Harry exited the room, he was pinned against the wall by his throat. Remus Lupin glared at him, eyes feral.

"Listen here. I don't know how you managed to fool Dumbledore, but you can't fool _me_. I don't know what you're up to, but the second I see you trying to hurt James or his family, I will rip your throat out, understand?"

At the last word, Remus tightened his grip. Harry could feel his throat constricting and he struggled to breathe.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, Remus dropped him and left.

Harry massaged his throat, coughing and wheezing. The ring on his finger burned hotly, sparking as the enchantment on it threatened to fail. Yet another memory that didn't return. Remus Lupin was dangerous.

A normal person might have been intimidated by that incidence. Harry was not, though he made sure to never be alone in the same room as Lupin if he could. Harry continued to act as he always did, though he also started to interact more with his sisters. Iris, after some initial reservations, and as the start of the term approached, had started to come to him more often for help.

Her course load was advance for a first year, Harry had noticed before, but he wasn't aware of just how advance. The charms and spells were at least third year levels, but her potions were closer to fourth. While she needed some help understanding the theoretical basis behind some of the more advance transfiguration techniques and charm works, she excelled in the subject of Potions and Herbology, he had only needed to fix some common mistakes here and there. And even in her worst subjects, she had only needed to hear an alternate explanation to comprehend the material.

She was far ahead of him when he was her age and Harry could start to see why someone might feel inadequate when measured against her, especially given her status. She was, without a doubt, a burgeoning genius.

Harry frowned.

She was also under a lot of pressure, Harry could see.

Was it fine that she was studying such complicated materials? Harry doubted that her load would lessen as time went out. From what he could see, she was being prepared for something. Would she even have time to herself? Time to hang out with friends? Time to just relax?

Most likely not. Harry had an idea of what she was being prepared for. Things were different here, Harry knew that. But, that didn't mean he had to like it.

He didn't think it was fair that they were placing all their hopes onto a single child, talented as she may be. Even if she succeeded, what then?

Carrying the weight of the entire wizard world on her shoulder, it would be a miracle if she turned out alright. Merlin knows he hadn't, that was why he had thrown himself into his work.

In her, he could see his life played out, only even faster. The brightest flames, Harry found, were often the first to burn out.

But he had to admit that it was probably necessary. She was marked, just like he was.

A normal life was already out of the question for her. Better that she was prepared, than rely on luck as he had.

Still, it wasn't like he couldn't do anything. . .

"Harry." A quiet voice broke him out of his reverie.

He blinked.

"Oh, right. The basics of self-transfiguration is the recognition of the absence of an absolutely defined self. The desired form is then projected over the physical body, and the spell then switches the form and body around. The stronger the image, the more detailed and concrete, the less energy it takes and the longer it lasts. The hardest part, however, is the initial recognition. It's quite hard for most people to give up the concept of themselves."

Iris nodded, then asked, "So does that mean an Animagus would be more proficient in self-transfiguration?"

"Yes, and no. While training to be an Animagus does share some similarities with the initial step in self-transfiguration, it is also supplemented by the fact that the form an Animagus takes is a composite of themselves. You could say that, rather than replacing themselves with a different form, they instead see themselves as their form. In that way, it becomes an ability, no longer needing to be maintained by a spell." Harry replied, "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah, thanks Harry." Iris smiled. Harry noticed that she was getting to be more comfortable in his presence.

The next several minutes was filled with the sound of quill on parchment as Iris completed her Transfiguration homework. Harry returned to his book.

The sound of writing stopped.

"Yes?" Harry asked.

Iris looked away. She had that look on her face, half curious, the other half afraid. If their relationship hadn't improved the past couple of weeks, most likely she would not have dared asked her question.

"How do you know so much?"

The words came out as a whisper, and she looked around, as if expecting somebody to jump out any second now.

Harry was expecting this question. Tapping the book he was holding, he answered, "By reading these books, of course. You don't see me doing anything right?"

"But-" Iris stopped, biting her lips. "I guess. . ."

Grudgingly accepting his answer, she returned to her schoolwork.

Several more minutes passed before the writing stopped again.

"It's not just that, but. . ." She began, halting for a moment, "Why are you acting so differently?"

Harry was also expecting this question.

"I don't want what happened last year to happen again." He said, reading aloud a well-rehearsed script, "Given how I treated you before, why are you even willing to talk to me?"

When pressed, Harry's solution was to attack. The question was both an attempt at redirection and genuine curiosity.

Harry's mistreatment of his sister showed even through the bias of memory. Minor, petty things, small enough to escape the immediate notice of Lily and James, but pervasive and cruel.

It reminded him of how the Dursley treated him, how they made him feel like he was unwanted, strange. A freak.

Though Iris had her parents, the constant negative attention must have affected her. Harry was beginning to see how her furtive nature came to be.

Iris bit her lips, a nervous habit. Harry would have to tell her about it one day, but he doubted that she'd take it well at their current relationship.

"Dumbledore told me about what you did, last year I mean. " Iris began. "How you tried to tell him about the Chamber."

Harry's mind, once again, came up with a blank.

"I know you don't like me. . ." She continued. "But even so, you tried to help me."

Her words were contradicting his current memories. He didn't remember anything like that. But, it did explain certain things.

"If it weren't for that, then Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have made it in time. I would have been dead."

That Dumbledore had arrived to fight the Basilisk, he'd remembered. But, she was ignoring the fact that it was his fault she was down there in the first place.

"I thought about it this whole summer. About why you would do that. I understood why you hated me, but I couldn't understand why you would try to help me. That's why I wanted to talk with you, but you were always so distant. . .until recently." she finished.

It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. She understood? Merlin, the poor kid thought it was her fault that her own brother had been a devil to her! Even he, with the Dursley, knew that they were the one in the wrong.

"That's wrong." he said.

Iris flinched.

Calming himself, he continued in a quieter voice.

"I mean, I was just a jealous git, blinded by my own ego." Looking straight in her eyes, he continued, "It's not your fault."

Sighing, he repeated, "It's not your fault. I want you to understand that."

"Look, it's not a difficult question. You're my sister, you're family. Of course I tried to help."

"Is that all. . .?" she questioned.

"Yeah, so don't worry about those sorts of thing. I was an idiot. Now I'm trying not to be. That's it." Harry answered firmly.

"Oh. . .I see." she softly replied.

Turning back to her parchment, she resumed writing.

Harry went back to his book. It probably wasn't enough to convince her, but it was a step. And he had also learned something important, the reason why Dumbledore seemed to be so willing to believe in Harry's innocence. At least there was somebody on his side.

* * *

The rest of the summer continued in much the same manner. Harry spent most of his time in his room, reading more books from the Potter's family library, occasionally tutoring Iris, sometimes playing with Daisy.

The youngest Potter had lost her trepidation of Harry in short order, the innocence of youth, and often pestered Harry to play with her. Harry indulged her most of the time.

While Harry's relationship with his siblings had improved, the same couldn't be said for the adults. Lupin was the worst, never letting Harry out of his sight whenever Harry was in the same room. James and Sirius tried to hide their caution, but Harry could see the signs. How their hands would twitch to their wand every time he entered a room, or made a sudden movement, or spoke.

It made living in the house a bit tense.

The rest of the month passed and September 1st came.

Harry stood before the entrance to Platform 9 and ¾. He was hit with a sense of nostalgia.

It had been years since he was in front of this familiar sight. Here he was, just hours from attending Hogwarts as a student, yet again.

Harry glanced back. Lily and James stood watching, smiling at the scene of little Daisy hugging her sister as they said their goodbyes. Their smiles disappeared when they looked at him.

He looked forward and walked across the barrier. The world changed and he was in front the Hogwarts Express. Stepping to the side, Harry watched as his sister came out of the entrance.

The moment she cleared the barrier, all hell broke loose.

Multiple explosions rocked the platform. Smoke and rubble filled the air.

Harry grabbed his sister and pulled her to cover. A pale green flash flew into the sky, forming a terrifying image.

A skull loomed overhead, a snake coiled about from its mouth.


End file.
